


Shortcut, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-08
Updated: 2005-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Abbey hates her new haircut.





	Shortcut, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**The Shortcut**

**by: Regency**

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** General  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** The usual. No infringement intended.  
**Summary:** Abbey hates her new haircut. 

Abbey struck a pose in the mirror, but grimaced at what she saw. She hated her new hair. It was too short and spiky on her forehead. Admittedly, it brought out her eyes wonderfully. She'd forgotten how striking they were. However, she still hated the hair. 

She jumped as she felt a breeze on her neck. She'd never get used to having nothing back there. She went back to checking her profile, but could find no way that pleased her. She ruffled her miniature mane in frustration. 

"Damn it. I hate this. I was not meant to be bald." Jed ambled stealthily up behind her and kissed her neck. She yelped at the touch of his cold hand on her bare shoulder. His dark green sweater hung sensuously off her frame. She was an irresistible vision. 

"You aren't bald. Though, you'd still be beautiful if you were." She snorted, hiding her face in her hands. 

"Oh, please. I am not beautiful. I look dead and sickly." She dropped her hands from her face and groaned disgustedly. "I look like a little boy." 

"You still look sexy," he murmured into her ear saucily. 

"Watch it, now. That's what got Michael Jackson into trouble." His body shook as he hid his face in her hair. 

"Now, that's insensitive." 

"But true." 

"Yes, admittedly." He held her close and gazed at her reflection. "You could be forty pounds and completely bald and I'd love you just same." 

"Forty pounds?" He nodded. "If wishes were horses…" 

"Then, I'd be a cowboy." She pursed her lips. 

"You've conquered your dreams?" He blew on her ear tenderly. 

"I'm living them." Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks lightly. 

"Forty pounds and bald?" 

"Less." 

"What's less that bald?" He turned her around and backed her up against the counter. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lightly. 

"Who cares? You're the perfect weight with curves, and dips, and lanes that I love. I am wild about your hair. It shows off your beautiful face." 

"And my nose." He wiggled said nose. 

"I'm wild about that, too." 

"You're biased." 

"True." She grasped his forearms absently and peered up to him. 

"You really don't mind the hair?" He reached up and slid his thick fingers through the baby soft strands. He smiled as she sighed rapturously. 

"I love the hair almost as much as I love you. It shows of that incredible neck of yours." 

"I think you're referring to this shirt I'm wearing that's showing off my shoulder here. As well as my legs, which I think you note are bare." He leaned back as if surprised. 

"Why no. I didn't even notice. Look at that." He slid a sly hand up her thigh and tipped his head down to caress her shoulder with his lips. 

"Yes, look at that." He lifted her up and sat her on the countertop. She raised her knees up around him and pulled him closer. She untucked his shirt and stroked his back. He finally pried himself away from her neck, leaving a nice little J-shaped love bite. 

"You know what this haircut signifies, though?" 

"What?" 

"That we've won one more battle." She clutched his hand at her thigh and smiled. 

"The one that really mattered." He rested his large hand against her face and nuzzled her cheek. 

"The only one that matters now." 

"Yeah." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

She was here for a little longer, because they'd worked together as partners to close the distance between them, to do what had to be done and to say what had to be said. 

Together, they'd finally beaten the sickness that had plagued their lives. They'd finally beaten the cancer. 

In her and in them. 


End file.
